


Boxing Day Confessions

by katiemorag



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Boxing Day, Christmas, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Rosie being a little matchmaker, Set in 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiemorag/pseuds/katiemorag
Summary: Rosie tells John and Sherlock on Boxing Day that she had sent a second letter to Santa asking for something that hadn't materialised on Christmas morning, this leads to some long awaited confessions.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade (implied), Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 129





	Boxing Day Confessions

Reflecting back on this year was an odd thing, Sherlock noted absently, a year like no other that had come before it. He, of course, had been insufferably bored for quite a lot of it; with no-one going out, there were miserably few cases to consult on. This had resulted in him driving John positively batty with his stropping and moping about the flat, John had almost looked forward to going to work at St Barts to avoid him and his moods; he had signed up to assist in the efforts against the virus that had brought the world to a standstill. 

Sherlock knew it was only an ‘almost’ since John’s face lit up upon arriving home, even on the days Sherlock could see the emotional and physical toll the busy hospital was taking on him by means of the sagged set of his shoulders and the tired lines around his eyes. John usually returned home to find Sherlock and Rosie sitting on the carpet with the carcass and innards of one of her various toys or some form of electronics sprawled out before them as Sherlock explained to the rapturously fascinated little girl how each thing worked. 

Sherlock was sure that the only reason he hadn’t lost his mind completely in John’s work induced absence was one Miss Rosie Watson. She’d taken to his rambling lessons on crime scenes, chemistry, bee-keeping and everything in between with enthusiasm only a 5 year old could possess. Sherlock liked to think she’d inherited his intelligence, despite knowing full well he had absolutely no part whatsoever in her genetics as she was miles ahead of her peers, if the numerous parenting books he still read on a daily basis were anything to go by (a fact that John still teased him endlessly for). 

John had been pleasantly surprised when Rosie had flourished under Sherlock’s tutoring during lockdown, he had deemed her teacher incompetent within the first week of online schooling when the poor woman had attempted to teach Rosie and her classmates how to subtract from 100. A skill, Sherlock had informed an exhausted John, Rosie had been able to complete for over a year now. They had come to the agreement with Rosie’s school that Sherlock would overtake her lessons with assignments being sent in for review periodically by her teacher. Rosie could now recite most of the times tables, though the 7x table always made her stumble, and had the reading ability of someone much older than her age.

However, the most amusing part of lockdown (at least to John anyway), was watching how Sherlock’s right eyebrow twitches every time Rosie insists on speaking to ‘Uncle Myc’. She had developed an odd attachment to the usually cold man, whom John saw expressing actual emotion the first time his little girl had called him uncle. 

“Daddy?” Rosie calls as she pauses in her reading of the new Blue Planet book that Lestrade, another beloved honorary uncle, had sent her for Christmas yesterday. 

“Rosie?” John answers back fondly in the exact same tone, making her huff in the most adorable way, just like every time he does this. 

“I know the probability of Santa being real is very low.” She begins, turning to face John with the cutest serious expression on her face, reminding John so vividly of Sherlock that he has to remind himself that they share no genetics. “But I asked for something for Christmas that was at the very top of my list and I wondered why he didn’t address it.” 

_ Jesus, _ John thought, fighting the urge to rub his forehead wearily,  _ isn’t one Sherlock enough? _

“Oh?” John quizzes, he’d intercepted Rosie’s Christmas list and couldn’t think of any of the few things she’d asked for that hadn’t been awaiting her under the tree yesterday morning. 

“Well, it wasn’t at the top of the list I let you see.” Rosie informs him with a far-too-innocent smile upon her face and John’s stomach swoops at the thought of Rosie wishing for something, that he could’ve gotten for her, that had never arrived. “It was on the list I sent directly to Santa at the post box at the end of the road, I asked Mrs Hudson to take me when she was watching me a few weeks ago.” 

John pointedly ignores Sherlock’s bark of laughter from the kitchen where he’s elbow deeps in seal blubber or something of the sort, John hadn’t had the stomach to ask. Mrs Hudson was as immune to Rosie’s puppy dog eyes as the rest of them, which was to say not at all. 

“You sent a second letter?” John asks, trying to correlate the fact that his 5 year old was cunning enough to write  _ two _ letters to a being she wasn’t quite sure she believed in just so John wouldn’t see one of them. 

Sherlock had been surprisingly open to allowing Rosie to believe in Santa, even helping to write the tags from him so Rosie didn’t realise that her presents from John and Sherlock were written in the same handwriting. John momentarily realised that some would consider it odd that he and Sherlock gave Rosie joint presents but they did all live together and had done so for as long as Rosie could remember, and it stopped Sherlock from giving her body parts from Molly’s morgue to experiment with. 

“Hmm hmm.” Rosie hums, looking mighty pleased with herself. “I asked Santa if he could please do something to make you and Sherlock realise that you’re in love with each other.” 

A shocked silence fell over 221B at Rosie’s words, Sherlock’s shuffling noises from the kitchen had ceased and John stared dumbly at his daughter. John is distantly aware of Sherlock coming to stand behind him after quietly making his way through from the kitchen, he places a gentle hand on John’s shoulder that John really should think twice about sinking into but he doesn’t, he never has. A small voice at the back of his head absently hopes that Sherlock at least attempted to wash his hands before coming through, the stuff he’d been handling had looked disgusting. 

“Why would you ask Santa Claus for that, Rosie?” Sherlock asks her, his voice low and curious but somehow still unbearably fond in a way that makes John’s treacherous heart flutter. 

John’s thoughts are running at a million miles a minute, has he been so obvious in his affection for his best friend that even his child has picked up on it? He has been in love with Sherlock Holmes for longer than he cares to admit, for longer than he even knew himself actually. He knew looking back that the affection he had felt for Sherlock before Moriarty, before Mary, before Rosie, was something more akin to love than friendship. But he had never intended on admitting such a thing, he was content with their lives as they were (whilst still hoping for more one of these days). 

Rosie sighs like the whole weight of the world is upon her, setting her book aside entirely to focus her attention on her father and godfather. 

“Because it’s  _ obvious. _ ” Rosie insists, sounding for all the world like a tiny, female Sherlock. “I spoke to Auntie Molly, and Uncle Greg,  _ and _ Uncle Mycroft. They all said to give you time but it’s been  _ forever _ .”

John can do little more than blink at her, he absently notes that he needs to have a word with those three about this. 

“Rosie…” John begins but he trails off, he’s unsure what to even say to that. If he’s interpreting her words correctly, she’s under the impression that Sherlock returns his affections but he has never given any indication to John that he does, the only time he had ever seen Sherlock convey any sort of romantic attraction was to Irene Adler (which was simply not talked about) and to Janine, who (cruelly) had been a means to an end. 

“Rosie, darling.” Sherlock takes over, rounding the chair to kneel down before a patiently waiting Rosie. “Would you go to your room for a moment so I can chat with your father, please?” 

She looks at him skeptically but gathers up her book once more and trots off to her room obediently, pausing only to kiss Sherlock on the cheek then go up on her tip-toes to bestow the same upon John. Sherlock shuffles around so he is kneeling in front of John who still feels like his brain is full of static from the sheer amount of thoughts spinning around his mind. 

“John…” Sherlock’s soft voice shakes John out of his trance, he looks down to find Sherlock watching him with eyes that are so openly affectionate that it takes his breath away. “I am sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” John parrots, his mind still whirling though now focused more on what Sherlock could possibly mean. It was Sherlock who should feel uncomfortable, not John, after all, it was he who had been so ridiculously obvious about his love for his flat mate that Rosie had gotten it into her head that it was returned. 

“Yes.” Sherlock says, reaching out to place a tentative hand on John’s knee, he smiles a little when John doesn’t shift out from underneath his touch. “I had not realised that I was being so obvious in my affections for you that Rosie would pick up on it. I will understand if you no longer feel comfortable in sharing the flat with me.” 

John can only blink at Sherlock as his brain tries to process that. Sherlock has just said exactly what he was worried about, he was sure it was  _ he _ that would make Sherlock feel awkward, surely he was just projecting and this wasn’t actually happening?

“I don’t understand?” John was able to force out, the words sounding dreadfully stilted and not like him at all. 

“John…” Sherlock sighs, looking away to focus on the carpet before taking a deep breath and raising his gaze to meet John’s eyes once more, John’s breath is momentarily knocked out of him once more as the Christmas lights around the fireplace reflect in Sherlock’s unfairly beautiful eyes. “I will speak plainly, I have found that over these years we have spent together, I have fallen in love with you.” 

The static in John’s mind goes into overdrive, he must have heard Sherlock wrong because there is no way this amazing, brilliant, clever, beautiful man has fallen in love with him?  _ Him? _ Plain old John Watson. He’d heard of Christmas miracles of course but surely there was no such thing as Boxing Day miracles because that was the only way a wish such as this could be becoming true.

“Me?” John repeats back, his brain not being able to conduct in full sentences quite yet. 

“Yes, John, you.” Sherlock indulges, his smile is soft and gentle but his eyes look impossibly defeated, a look John had never wanted to see in them again. 

It came to John in a sudden realisation, feeling for all the world a complete fool, that Sherlock thinks that  _ John _ doesn’t feel the same. How Sherlock, the most amazingly observant man on Earth, hadn’t noticed how much John loved him was beyond him but he was going to fix that. John shook his head to clear his fuzzy thoughts, feeling a bit more like himself and able to conduct himself as such. 

“Sherlock.” John said firmly, making Sherlock blink up at him as John lay his hand over Sherlock’s own where it rested on his knee. “You, stupidly brilliant idiot, how could I not love you?” 

Sherlock looks almost ready to keel over at John’s words, like he hadn’t even considered the very possibility that John felt the same, which he could sympathise with given he hadn’t considered it vice versa himself. 

“You love me?” Sherlock stutters out tentatively, sounding so uncharacteristically timid that John feels his heart break for this man, who has been through so much and deserves the world and John swore in that moment to try his damndest to give him that. 

John sinks down off his chair so he is kneeling before Sherlock, the action making Sherlock’s hand slide from John’s knee up to his waist, he goes to pull his hand away but John’s own hand keeps it firmly on his body. John reaches out his other hand to gently cup Sherlock’s face, smiling as the other man instinctively leans into the touch. 

“I love you, Sherlock Holmes.” John tells him, his stomach erupting in butterflies as Sherlock’s face lights up at the words. 

“John…” Sherlock begins though he looks unsure as to what to do next, glancing over John’s shoulder at where the closed door to Rosie’s room lies. 

“I’m going to kiss you now, Sherlock.” John says, he’s never wanted to do something more, he’s wanted to kiss Sherlock so many times, almost as many times as he’s wanted to punch him actually but never with such incessant need as he feels now. “Is that okay?”

“Please.” Sherlock blurts out, his cheeks flushing a lovely pink at his own eagerness. John huffs a gentle laugh before leaning in close to Sherlock’s awaiting, tempting pink lips, pausing only a hair’s breadth away to give him time to pull away should he wish to. “John, please.”

The desperation in Sherlock’s voice has John quickly closing the gap between them, the first touch of their lips is nothing short of wonderful. Sherlock’s delighted gasp only serves to make John’s heart beat ever faster as he pulls Sherlock closer, releasing the other man’s face and hand to snake an arm around Sherlock’s waist and then one into that luscious mop of hair that he’s ached to run his hands through for so long. Sherlock whimpers as John cards his fingers through his hair, his own hand clinging to John’s waist as his other comes up to cling to John’s jumper and pull him impossibly closer. 

They’re practically in each other’s laps when they break for air, both breathing heavier than normal and wide eyed as they regard each other tentatively. 

“Fuck.” John gasps out as he takes in the positively sinful sight of a kiss ravaged Sherlock Holmes, it’s even better knowing that it was  _ him  _ who made the great detective look like that. 

“Language.” Sherlock reprimands, his voice is little more than a gasp as his chest heaves. 

John just grins and swoops back in to kiss the infuriating man once again, mentally cheering when Sherlock almost surges into him and clings to him ever tighter. He’s almost panting when John pulls back a moment later, his cheeks are flushed and his lips pinker than normal, John feels inordinately proud of himself for that. 

They simply sit and smile at each other for a long moment, neither needing to say anymore than what has already been said. John gently tugs Sherlock to his feet, the man allowing himself to be pulled up without a single protest, John notes mentally to kiss Sherlock fiercely anytime he’s being particularly difficult if he’s this pliable afterwards. 

With them both standing, John once again curls a hand into Sherlock’s curls and gently guides him down so his face rests on John’s shoulder. John’s other arm wrapping around his shoulders to hold him in an all encompassing hug, Sherlock stiffens for a moment before sagging into John’s warm embrace, his own arms fastening around John’s waist and holding him just as tight as he is being held. 

“Am I allowed to come out now?” 

John and Sherlock break apart from their hug but don’t let each other go entirely as they hear Rosie’s voice call from her room. They share a fond smile at her antics, John has known for long enough that Sherlock adores his daughter as if she were his own but knowing that they will be raising her  _ together _ from now on rather than as just people who happen to live together, makes him happier than he could have ever predicted. 

“Yes, you may.” Sherlock calls out to her, he noses into John’s hair affectionately as her door flies open and she comes barrelling out, halting in her footsteps at the door in between the kitchen and the living room when she sees them wrapped in each other’s arms. 

“It worked?!” She squeals excitedly, practically bouncing as she grins up at them. 

“Yes it worked, you little hooligan.” John says fondly as he retracts one arm from around Sherlock to beckon her closer, she doesn’t hesitate to rush to their sides. 

Sherlock removes his arms from around John entirely to lean down and scoop a very pleased Rosie into his arms, she giggles happily as he tickles her tummy. Sherlock leans back into John with ease, holding Rosie close as John wraps an arm back around him and reaches the other up to pet Rosie’s hair fondly. 

“I’m very happy now.” Rosie tells them with a bright smile as she cuddles into Sherlock, fiddling with the collar of his shirt just as she had done since she was the tiniest of babies. 

“We live to please you, Miss Watson.” Sherlock teases, placing a fond kiss on her forehead as she pulls back to pout over exaggeratedly at him, though she gathers herself quickly and tilts her nose up in a manner befitting of her Uncle Mycroft.

“I should think so.” She replies tartly, only to dissolve into giggles a moment later, unable to keep up the haughty act. 

John and Sherlock can’t help but laugh along with her, both can see the happiness practically radiating from the other, and know that though everything has changed, their affection and love for the little girl between them, as well as for each other though they won’t admit it quite yet, never will. 

“You’re a dastardly little thing, aren’t you?” John says with a grin as he tickles her side, making her laugh even more. 

“Well…” She begins, looking between them with a look that could almost be considered calculating. “It wasn’t  _ entirely _ my idea.”

John and Sherlock blink at her stupidly once again at the confession, she had said earlier that most of the adults in her life had said to give them time so who could’ve possibly encouraged her? 

“Whose idea was it then?” Sherlock asks, John can see the confused frown creeping onto his face, he had obviously been sure that this was all Rosie’s own doing and the realisation that it hadn’t been had thrown him. Though John knew that one of the only people on the planet capable of duping the great Sherlock Holmes was Miss Rosie Watson. 

“Uncle Mycroft’s, of course.” Rosie replies happily, looking far too smug for any child of her age. “I fibbed a little earlier so you wouldn’t get angry and get distracted.” 

John can’t help but burst out laughing at the sheer outrage on Sherlock’s face because that’s exactly what he would’ve done if he’d found his pest of an elder brother had had a hand in getting them together. John made a mental note to send Mycroft a gift basket of some sort, though maybe he’d text Anthea and get her to order it for him lest he offend the notoriously picky man, Sherlock would never acknowledge Mycroft’s help so it would fall to John to do so. 

“You;” Sherlock tells Rosie as he tickles her mercilessly, her infectious giggles filling the flat; “are a brilliantly devilish little thing!” 

John just laughs as Rosie is reduced to wheezing laughter at the onslaught which only lets up when Sherlock tilts her back and forth before letting her settle back onto his hip as she regains her breath. She is flushed and grinning, Sherlock is beaming and proud and John has never loved them more. 

  
  


That evening finds the Watson-Holmes household curled up on the sofa watching Roald and Beatrix which John had recorded on Christmas Eve for Rosie, they had spent actual Christmas Eve playing board games and watching Home Alone 1 & 2\. Sherlock had only stopped pointing out plot holes and inaccuracies when Rosie had threatened to evict him to the kitchen, John wished he had taken a picture of Sherlock’s face at that. 

They had ordered from Angelo’s for dinner, something that Rosie had insisted upon but that John and Sherlock had all too happy to allow, they had shared a gentle kiss as they’d unpacked the food. Rosie had rolled her eyes at them so hard that John was a little worried that they’d disappear back into her head, if she was this dramatic as a five year old, he wasn’t sure he was going to survive her teenage years. 

By the end of the programme, Rosie was flagging, the time being close to nine o’clock and the excitement of the last few days catching up to her all at once. John carted her off to bed, Sherlock trailing behind obediently, knowing she wouldn’t settle without a goodnight kiss from both of them, she’s out for the count before John has even settled the bed covers around her. 

John closes her bedroom door gently behind him, smiling fondly to himself as he marvels at the mischievous cleverness of his little girl. He returns to the kitchen to find Sherlock pouring them another glass of red wine, they’d already finished one bottle between them but John wasn’t working tomorrow so he wasn’t going to complain about an extra glass of the one of the decadent wines that Mycroft had sent them. 

They settle back onto the couch, curling in close to one another as Sherlock flicks through the channels trying to find something decent to watch, he gives up with a huff and turns the TV off, dropping the remote onto the table in front of them. 

“C’mere.” John says softly, lifting up the arm not holding his glass to allow Sherlock to cuddle in close to his side, the other man sighs happily and John’s heart swells at the pleased noise. 

“Thank you, John.” Sherlock murmurs a moment later as he noses gently into John’s collarbone as if chasing the scent of John’s faded aftershave there. 

“For what?” John quizzes, tilting his head to look down at Sherlock’s mop of curls and the small part of his face that he can see from this angle. 

“Everything.” Sherlock sighs, he pulls back a little to look up at John with a smile so heart wrenchingly gentle that John can’t help but lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lips, pulling away before Sherlock can push back to deepen it, so that he can continue, he only does so when John raises an expectant eyebrow. “For being my friend, giving me something to live for, for bringing Rosie into our lives, for loving me.” 

John can feel tears prickling in his eyes at the uncharacteristic show of emotion that Sherlock is displaying, sure he’d confessed his love earlier but this somehow felt so much more intimate than that.

“You don’t need to thank me for that, love.” John says softly, touching his nose to Sherlock’s affectionately. “I should be thanking you, if anything.”

“Don’t be absurd, John.” Sherlock says, but the blush on his cheeks makes John power on. 

“You’ve shown me a life I could have never imagined when I got discharged.” John says, using the hand that is wrapped around Sherlock to toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. “Though it hasn’t all been plain sailing, but I’ve got you and Rosie and there’s absolutely nothing I would change for that.” 

Saying it hadn’t been plain sailing would be putting it lightly but John would stand by his words, they hadn’t been dealt an easy hand in recent years but having Sherlock here, alive and safe in his arms with Rosie sleeping peacefully in the other room, was more than he could have ever hoped for. 

“I love you, John.” Sherlock says plainly, smiling up at him with such warmth that it takes John’s breath away. 

“I love you, Sherlock.” John replies, the words coming as easy as breathing. 

Sherlock pushes up to capture John’s lips in a searing kiss that has John anticipating what is yet to come. They break apart moments later, both once again, breathing a little heavier than they had been before. Sherlock curls back into John’s chest with a pleased sigh as John takes a sip of his wine to steady himself. 

As they sit in companionable silence, John thinks upon how they’re going to tell their friends and family that they are (finally) together. Mrs Hudson will, of course, be absolutely delighted, she’s been angling for them to get together for years, since before they had even become true friends no doubt. Molly would be equally as thrilled, she had promptly gotten over her crush on Sherlock and had recently moved in with her long term boyfriend, Laurence; she would probably try and throw them a party over zoom or something. Harry would simply and predictably say ‘I told you so’. Mycroft would be smug that his and Rosie’s dastardly plan had worked though he would never show that he was genuinely pleased for his little brother, lest someone accuse him of possessing actual human emotion. Greg would be just as happy as Mrs Hudson and Molly, he’d been commenting on John and Sherlock’s ‘tension’ for years now. 

John wondered absently if he could use Rosie’s apparent matchmaking abilities and turn them back on Mycroft, after all, he had stared at Greg rather longingly when they had last all been together back at the beginning of March for Rosie’s birthday. He also knew that they had been keeping in regular contact since lockdown had begun, mostly to discuss Sherlock but John was sure it had come to more than that if it had been continuing for this long now. Sherlock had commented on their contact more than once, idly noting that Lestrade had mentioned seeing a film or reading a book or something of the sort, only for Mycroft to mention it not long after. 

John lets the thoughts drift from him as he focuses back on the man curled against him, he’s been happy with their life together and content with simply being Sherlock’s friend for so long that he can hardly believe he gets to call this man his own. He knows that getting together at Christmas time was often reserved for those horrendous made for TV movies that Mrs Hudson loved to watch but he can’t bring himself to care, he’s got his own Christmas, well Boxing Day, love in his arms and there’s nothing in the world he would trade it for. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, hope you all had a lovely festive season despite this horrible year. 
> 
> Please excuse any mistakes or typos or anything like that, I cracked my head off a door after one too many wines on Christmas night so currently recovering from a concussion lol! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think if you can, this is my first work in the Sherlock fandom despite having been lurking here for literally an entire decade! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
